This story is about me. Only me. It’s about my ego and insecurities and fears and needs.
I typically write what I think might be useful for others to know and understand, but this is different. It’s more like a diary entry. A confessional. A cry of frustration.
It’s the sort of thing I would address to a wife or partner or trusted companion — if I had a woman in that role. It’s my half of a conversation which I would need to have with someone who loved me and believed in me and was permanently a part of my life.
So this probably isn’t for you.
I’m struggling right now. In many ways, things are the best in my life that they’ve been for at least 20 years. I have stability and purpose again. I know where I want to go. I’m more clear about my values and my priorities than I’ve ever been in my life.
But I’m struggling with the gap between how things ought to be and the reality I see in front of me. And that gap terrifies me — because nobody lives forever.

Cult’s targeting of family funeral points to folly of speaking for God
Accepting joy tomorrow does no good if tomorrow never comes
Collectivists think they’re doing us favors as they force herd to follow
Successful CEO walks away from job after daughter’s challenge
Chick-fil-A boycott misguided; tolerance has to run both ways
Who’s the hero of Chick-fil-A wars? Rachel set an example for all of us
Police threaten to seize my camera for crime of public photography